


Top 10 Times To Have Sex

by GhostCrumpet



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: ALL OF IT, F/M, all the sex, every fucking bit of fucking, how much of it?, seriously
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-08-28
Updated: 2017-08-28
Packaged: 2018-12-21 00:19:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,723
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11932389
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GhostCrumpet/pseuds/GhostCrumpet
Summary: Steve and Darcy develop a relationship based on sex.Because they are adults and are totally emotionally functioning. Not.(Because tumblr.)





	Top 10 Times To Have Sex

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks Emma.
> 
>  
> 
> [Joik.](https://hushinghorizon.tumblr.com/post/164689544597/the-most-popular-times-of-the-day-to-have-sex)

The flutter of touch. Warmth blossomed on her hip. It was someone's fingers, dragging up the curve of her thigh, then walking along the dip of her waist.

Darcy shivered and opened her eyes a crack, wincing at the light. Her head was throbbing. What the hell had she drunk last night? Where had she drunk last night? For that matter, where the hell was she? The sheets were not hers- they weren’t wrinkled enough, nor were they covered in rainbows and unicorns. So. She wasn’t at home.

The fingers morphed into a full palm-and-finger-thing, wrapping around her waist, cupping the underside of her ribs. She wasn’t freaking out that she was in someone’s bed, a dude-someone, given the stiff rod poking into her left asscheek, mainly because she was still in the Avengers compound (she’d recognized the custom-engineered hardwood floor anywhere due to it’s “rugged yet smooth” texture, demanded by finishing-snob-Tony-Stark).

A pair of warm lips, surrounded by the light bristle of morning-after-facial-hair, pressed into the side of her neck and she sighed.

“Good morning,” Captain America said into the nape of her neck, his breath rustling the downy, baby-fine hairs there.

_ Oh shit _ , responded Darcy’s brain, and her eyes sprang open, killer headache or no.

_ Fuck yeah _ , went her body, as it answered Cap- _ Steve’s _ touch, waking up fully, and  _ very excited to be here today, Bob Barker _ .

Her answer to Steve was a soft sigh as he nuzzled into her, his arm wrapping fully around her body and tugging her back against him. He groaned into the soft space right behind her ear when she hitched her hips back into his erection.

“Morning,” she said, voice fuzzy with sleep. “Aren’t you…” she squinted at the clock before continuing, “don’t you normally, like, run a marathon at 6am or something?”

“Hmmm,” Steve not-answered, his big hand stroking over her belly, his thumb sweeping around the curve of it. “Made other plans,” he said. His hand lifted, and she felt him brush the hair off her neck, a move that screamed  _ tenderness _ and  _ emotions _ and definitely not  _ morning after regrets _ . “Last night…” he paused, his breath catching in his throat, and then he laid down another one of those sweet-scratchy kisses on her neck.

She remembered last night, and oh lord, her face flushed. There hadn’t been wall sex (could he even wall sex? She’d put on a few pounds lately. Comfort eating was a thing when the world was almost always ending), but it had been a near thing. She remembered grinding on a dance floor,  _ Chrissssst _ , Tony’s dance floor, and she hoped her boss’s boss didn’t remember it, because Stark would never let her hear the end of it. He wouldn’t let up on Steve either, because who the hell would have ever thought that  _ Captain America _ could  _ grind _ .

“Last night?” Darcy asked, because Steve seemed to have gotten distracted over the curve of her shoulder, his fingers stilling on her hip-bone as he rubbed his cheek into her skin. Was this really happening? She’d been watching his ass sashay around the compound for the last six months, pining over something she’d never in a million years get to have.

“I have a small… confession,” he admitted, shifting over to give her room, and then tugging her gently until she laid on her back. She looked up at him, and was caught at how good he looked, his hair swept up to one side, sticking up in pieces, not by any means perfect, but the style of a gentleman who’d been quite well and thoroughly fucked the night before.

If  _ he _ looked messy, her hair must look like a tumbleweed. She tried not to think about it.

Guilt phased over Steve’s face for a moment.

“You were… quite,” he cleared his throat, “you were drunk, Darce, and I took advantage,” his words spilled out of him in a torrent, more guilt lacing them. She blinked at him and then snorted.

“Oh my god.”

“Darcy, please,” he said, suddenly, sitting up, horror on his face. “I really.. I shouldn’t have, and you’ve got every right to be mad at me… I took you back here, knowing-”

She smacked a hand over his mouth.

“Oh my god, shut up. Please? Shut up. Yes, I was totally drunk last night, but oh my god, do not feel bad for a minute,” she said. His eyebrows hiked up, but he didn’t move to push her hand away.

She softened, and curled closer to him, turning on her side so they were pressed, naked front, to naked front.

“I’ve kinda wanted you since like, before you were alive again, and last night, I knew walking in I was planning on getting plastered and I can hold my booze well enough, like that wasn’t all the drink, that was… well, you approaching me, and me being pretty into it from the get-go, so…” she stumbled over her words, trying to figure out how to say it so he wouldn’t feel bad.

His erection, however terrible he might have felt, wasn’t flagging. An idea crossed her mind. She reached down and wrapped a firm hand around his cock, giving him a testing squeeze. Steve’s eyes slammed shut, and he made a pained noise behind her hand, his hips rocking forward.

“I’m not drunk right now, and I’m perfectly ecstatic to be here,” she whispered. She moved her hand and kissed him hard.

The response was immediate and swift. She was on her back a moment later, Steve shifting over her, his tongue licking into her mouth. At the back of her mind, she had to give him props for taking an opening as soon as he saw it, and not giving her any chance to surrender.

Not that she would. His weight was comforting and arousing at the same time, making her whole body flush.

“I’m sorry,” he murmured against her lips, his hips hitching into hers, his cock rubbing into the crease of her thighs. She laced her fingers into the hair on the back of his head and gripped there tightly as her legs slipped apart. He moved between them with no hesitation, and she gasped when he slid inside her.

No warning, and no build-up made her tight, but she liked the burn. She turned her head to the side to  _ hide _ how good it felt, her knees squeezing into his hips as they flexed and.

“Sorry,” he whispered again, as he pulled out of her, only to double-back on his efforts. Darcy whimpered, wanting to say that he shouldn’t be, that honestly, waking up with his hands on her had made her wet enough for it, but then he picked up his pace, and she was robbed of any ability to breathe or form complex sentences.

The air sobbed out of her lungs as he pinned her down, hands on her wrists, his mouth and teeth scraping down her neck as he fucked her. She stared up at the smooth ceiling, and tried to remember if it had felt this damn good last night.

“Wanna get you there,” he said into her collarbone.

“Already halfway,” she replied, moaning when he left one of her wrists to scoop his hand under her ass and pull her up off the mattress. “Oh god-”

“That right?” he asked, pushing into her still, lifting his body from hers as he did. She saw his gaze travel down her naked form, down to where they were joined, and an odd, self-satisfied little smile crossed his lips. “You gonna cry out for me, doll?”

“Ahhh!” She did, as he held her just right, and his cock slid across her g-spot, lighting her up. He groaned, his head tipping back, his lips parted, and he did it again, shuddering.

“So tight,” he muttered, the words making her face flush hard. “Perfect-” Steve made another low, guttural noise in the back of his throat, and his other hand abandoned her wrist to slip between them, over the slick skin of her pussy.

She whined, jerking her hips down when he touched her clit, the pleasure almost  _ too _ much, but Steve smirked, looking up at her from between strands of falling blond hair.

“Come for me,” he whispered, so in control of himself even as he was losing it, his hips churning between her thighs. His thumb stroked down over her clit, and her body obeyed him, flinging her over the precipice without warning. She screamed, back tightening up, her hands going above her head to scratch at the headboard, and she vaguely remembered him letting out a choked groan.

Then she was being laid down on the mattress, Steve slipping from her body with a soft curse.

She heard his feet hit the carpet, and the mattress shifted as he sat.

She felt empty, bereft, the emotional well of neediness coming up over her, like it always did after she came.

She wished he’d come back to her, and wrap her up in his arms.

“I…” Steve breathed out, and she turned to look at him, reaching for the sheet to cover herself. His phone beeped, the soft warning chime of an assemble. He froze for a moment, and she could see his face in profile, his jaw tense.

He got up, grabbed a pair of sweatpants off the top of his dresser, and was out of the room without another glance at her. Six months of agonizing pining popped in thirty seconds of crushing emotional pain, and she sat up properly, staring at the door he’d left by.

Was… was that it? Her heart felt hollow, and she wondered if she’d been wrong… wrong about Steve, wrong about lusting after him, wrong about thinking he was a good person… and he’d just bailed on her without saying anything? How had this happened?

A trickle of wetness between her thighs made her realize they’d been less than responsible, and she shoved her emotional damage out of the way. She needed to clean up, get dressed, and get her ass down to medical for a morning-after pill.

Then… then she could cry about the one-night stand she’d been dreaming of, and how true the words  _ never meet your heroes _ was.

Or in her case…  _ never fuck your heroes _ was probably more apt.

**Author's Note:**

> I DUNNO WHY IT GOT SO SAD OMG.
> 
> Next one will not be so sad. Maybe angry, but not sad!


End file.
